Thoughts of the Prince
by EquestreRoyale
Summary: A young maiden's thoughts of the Prince of Mirkwood, and the Prince's thoughts of the maiden.
1. What Of Me?

**Thoughts of the Prince**

** b Amiriel's POV /b **

There he is, standing beside his father. Tall and golden-haired, their beings give off a sense of power, duty and authority, and also love for their people. And we love them in return. We love our King and Prince. They have led us, protected us, and cared for us for centuries. They always place our welfare before theirs, thus ensuring we are happy inhabitants of their Realm.

Our Prince. The Heir to the throne of Mirkwood. A member of the Fellowship and a warrior, he is a formidable archer. No one in their right mind would challenge him on the archery field. He is skilled with the knives as well, not to mention entertaining the ladies.

His features are noble and strikingly similar to the King's, and his vivid blue gaze enchanting to any fair maiden. He is strong, but slender in build, and well over six feet tall. His gold crown of twisting vines glints upon his golden head, and his forest green robes flatter him, accentuating his broad shoulders and flawless form.

As loved and famed as he is amoung his subjects, it holds no sway over him. Those who know him personally describe him as kind, compassionate and patient, and someone you could always turn to for an honest opinion. He is reliable and modest, but also stubborn. Once he has made up his mind about something, there are few who can alter his thoughts. Despite that particular characteristic, the i ellyth /i of Mirkwood flock around him at every dance. He is gentle and gallant to all of them and dances with many of them.

Though nearly every young maiden is taken by him, is has been long since he has been taken by any of them. He is a good judge of character; I know that he will choose the right i elleth /i when the time comes. All the others will, of course, be heartbroken when their beloved Prince takes his mate, but they will find comfort in the fact that he will be happy.

And what of me? I am still not sure how I would react. Long have I loved him from afar. I have not dared to approach him, mainly out of fear that he would not return my feelings or I would make a fool of myself, but also for the simple fact that I am not a pursuer. And I have yet to be pursued. It is not because I am not pretty – every i elleth /i is – but I do not have breath-taking beauty, nor do I spend much time in front of my mirror. I prefer to be alone and watch the Prince from the side of the room. I do not let it be too obvious however; I speak to my friends and family as well.

This is how I am spending this evening at this celebration. My friends are with the other i ellyth /i , eagerly awaiting their chance to dance with the Prince, and I stand alone, casually gazing up at the Royal Family. My Elven ears cannot pick up what they are saying but it appears they are exchanging a joke, for they and their bodyguards look amused. Singing a tune to myself, I watch my friends give up on waiting for the Prince and instead dance with other handsome Elves. A few minutes pass by and I turn my gaze back up to the King and his son.

The Prince is looking at me! His bodyguard says something to him and he smiles at me. I smile back, hoping I am not blushing for the room suddenly seems very warm. I do not wish to break my gaze, but it seems fate would have it otherwise. Upon hearing my name being called I look to my right and nod my head in acknowledgment to some friends of the family. We exchange words and they proceed onto the dance floor. I turn my gaze back to the Prince.

Oh Valar! He is coming this way!!


	2. Is She Affected By Me?

** b Legolas' POV /b **

Yet another feast I am obligated to attend. It is one of my many duties as the Heir. I stand on the dais with my father, talking to him as I do every day. Our bodyguards, though watching for any threat to our safety, join actively in the conversation. The three of them tease me about the i ellyth /i making eyes at me, but it scarcely bothers me, for I have become accustomed to it. I will be expected to dance with the i ellyth /i , but I will wait a while longer.

Morion jabs me playfully in the ribs and winks, looking pointedly over my shoulder. I turn and see what he has been looking at – or rather, who. It is an i elleth /i I know by the name of Amiriel. She is a healer in the palace, and a skilled one from what I have seen and heard. She has tended to some of my own injuries in the past; an arrow through the thigh, the slash of the sword on the arm or chest. Her fingers caused the least amount of additional pain as possible. But that wouldn't stop her from causing me pain by applying pressure to my wound as soon as I tried to leave the healing wing before I was well enough.

She is fair; with her delicate features, slender figure and thigh length golden/blonde hair. Though, I rarely see her wearing it down with delicate braids pulled away from her face. She typically wears it in a long plait pinned to her head, but if I had my way, I would have her wear her hair down more often. It brings out her features best.

She and I speak seldom, as her pathway of duty has a different course compared to mine. When we do speak it is when either a fellow warrior or I have been wounded. But I have to date never spoken to her at a celebration, nor danced with her. Would she willingly allow me to lead her in a romantic waltz? I am well aware of the effect I have on i ellyth /i , but Amiriel does not seem to be affected by it. Perhaps she has control over the emotions she displays; I can share the experience in that field. How many times, while she was so innocently bandaging my chest, did I have to restrain myself from pulling her onto the bed with me? It is enough to undo me; wisps of hair that escaped from her braid framing her face, her eyes and hands examining my body for any injury, and her absentmindedly humming a tune to herself.

Ah, she is looking at me now! I can read surprise on her face as she realizes I am looking back at her. Does she think she is not worthy of my – sorry Morion? You say that I 'seem to be quite taken by her?' I smile to myself and at Amiriel, rewarded a smile from her in return. Well Morion, that is for me to know and for you to find out.

As Amiriel turns to some acquaintances of hers, I step down from the dais and make my way across the room to her. I see her sharp intake of breath when she sees me approaching her. That sends a thrill through my being; she is affected by me. Oh Valar, when has it mattered to much to me that an i elleth /i is attracted to me!? I am a pace from her when I stop and we look at each other.


	3. He Thinks Me Beautiful?

** b Amiriel's POV /b **

He stops in front of me and looks into my eyes. I struggle to control my breathing; I can hear my heart pounding in my chest! I think it is no longer a secret how attracted to him I am, for I can read it in his eyes. But does he share my feelings?

He holds out his hand to me and calls me by my name, asking me to dance with him. My Prince – you need not ask me twice! I step forward and my stomach churns as his warm hand wraps around mine. He leads me across the floor and stops near the center. He turns to me and draws me close; his hand upon my waist and my hand on his shoulder. Valar – I need air! I can scarcely breathe!

He leads me in a slow waltz, allowing me time to calm down. So perceptive – nothing seems to escape his eyes. I see his gaze flick to my hair and his eyes glint before his gaze returns to my face. He tells me that I should wear my hair down more often, for I look beautiful tonight. He finds me beautiful? Oh, how I wish this dance would never end!

In turn I compliment his choice of tunic, saying that it brings out the colour of his eyes. His brilliant smile widens at that. Feeling more comfortable now, after seeing his disarming smile, I comment that should he smile like that much longer it would freeze on his face. He only winks at me and says it is all for the better, for when he frowns, the i ellyth /i think they have displeased him. I think back to the time when he frowned at me as I prevented him from leaving the healing wing. I say that his frown has little effect on me. He laughs – oh, that beautiful, melodic laugh – and says that such a resistance is a rarity amoung those he knows.

We are silent for a while, and I am thankful that this is a long dance. Glancing up at the dais tells me that the King, Lord Voronwë and Lord Morion are grinning knowingly at us. I ask Legolas why they look at us so and he explains that they think he has fallen for me. I do not ask him if it is true, regardless of the fact I desperately want to know. It is not courteous and I fear his answer; for should he not feel as I do my heart will shatter.

However, my heart leaps at his ext phrase. 'I have been taken by you for quite some time now.' I look up at him and see his softened gaze trained on me. I want to say something but I cannot find the words, and I doubt my throat will allow any speech. Instead, I smile, and he understands my loss for words, for it is not every day the Prince confesses he has eyes for an i elleth /i .

He then switches to another topic of discussion, inquiring about my mother and my own well-being. I recover from my shock at his confession and tell him of my mother's latest fashion creations. He nods and says that should he ever require a unique article of clothing, he would visit my mother. Oh, how happy my mother would be to be of service to one of the Royal Family! I feel an overpowering sense of gratitude towards Legolas and I thank him. He responds that it would be the least he could do after all those times I have tended to his wounds. The he voices the fact that he thinks I enjoyed it. I feel a heat spread across my cheeks. Valar, please do not allow him to read the emotions in my eyes at the moment!

The dance draws to a close and he pulls me a little closer to kiss my cheek. Fire shoots across the spot where his lips touch my skin, and then he proceeds to whisper in my ear, telling me to meet him in the gardens after the celebration. I feel my heart leap for joy in my chest as we part and he smiles at me before turning to do what duty asks of him; to dance with the other i ellyth /i .

I want this evening to end so I can be alone with Legolas and confess my feelings to him. I want to feel his hands at my waist and his lips on my own. Can I contain myself until then? I shall soon find out.


	4. Will I Last the Night?

**Will I Last the Night?**

I gaze into her eyes – such a mesmerizing forest green, and note her anxiety. Her guard of her emotions is failing due to her shock. Perhaps a dance would calm you, my dear Amiriel? I ask her and her eyes light up as she accepts and places her hand over my outstretched palm. Another thrill shoots through me as I feel the warmth of her hand in mine.

I lead her onto the dance floor and I stop, turning to her. I place my hand on her waist, and I find that I want to keep it there for eternity. She places her hand on my shoulder; such a simple gesture on her part, but I have to restrain myself from pulling her body fully against mine.

I begin to dance, leading her in a romantic waltz. Did I just say romantic? Romantic would be a moonlit dance amoung the trees with her in my arms. The moonlight would make her hair shimmer and her eyes sparkle. Her pale skin would glow and drive me to caress her all the more.

I pull myself back to reality and gaze at her golden tresses. I must tell her that she should wear it thus more often, for she looks so beautiful when her locks are liberated. The expression on her face is most rewarding; I have made her happy!

To my surprise she compliments my tunic. I give her my disarming smile to show my thanks, and – do I dare admit it? – to seduce her somewhat. She seems to return to her characteristic calmness and jests about my smile. I counter that with a jest of my own about my frown, only to receive a smirk from her and notification that my frown has no effect on her. Oh Amiriel, how I have wondered how you can accomplish that feat, for only my father and our loyal bodyguards are immune to it other than you.

After a period of silence, she glances up at the dais and asks me the meaning of the looks given by my father and our bodyguards. I explain with as much of a straight face I can manage. I can see the faint signs of her inner struggle; dare she ask me if my infatuation is true or not? I have made my choice some time before. I tell her that I have in fact been taken by her for quite awhile, and I look adoringly upon her.

She cannot speak, so happy is she. Valar – how can I read her emotions so easily now? Perhaps it is because of the initial shock of dancing with me; I shall have to ask her sometime. But her smile is enough for me at the moment. That smile would have lit up all the dark corners of this wood during the war.

Moving to a topic with which her voice abilities will return, I inquire of herself and her family. She then easily speaks fondly of her mother and her latest creations. I shall be sure to purchase something from her, for I have seen many of my people with her works and I admire the skill and love with which they were fabricated. I tell her this and am rewarded with a gratifying smile. I respond that it is the least I can do for her care of my wounds, but I know from somewhere in my heart that there is another reason.

I think she enjoyed caring for my wounds, however, and the temptation to say this is so intense that I tell her so. A light crimson graces her cheeks. Valar – how I love it when she blushes! It makes her all the more lovely.

The dance draws to a close and I find that I must show a little affection as opposed to simple courtesy. I pull her closer in my arms and kiss her soft cheek, and then I whisper in her ear, telling her to meet me tonight in the gardens when the celebration draws to a close. Her joy is obvious and I smile at her one last time before doing what duty asks of me. In the past years I have enjoyed this part of the evening, but I am filled with an impatience for this celebration to end. I want to pull her body flush against mine and I wish to claim her lips and kiss her like she's never been kissed before.

Will I last the night?

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has followed this story so far. The story isn't over yet, so don't kill me for the cliffie! At least two more chapters will follow!!

Mel


	5. I Long For Him

**Chapter Five: I Long For Him**

The remainder of the evening drags on as it always does, but the guests are finally leaving. I look around the Hall as it slowly empties and my anticipation for what is to come increases. My gaze turns to the Prince across the Hall and he meets it, winking at me with a smile upon his lips before turning to speak with some lingerers.

I leave the Hall with a last look at the Prince, and make my way to the gardens. I sit down on a bench in a glade surrounded by willow trees and tall hedges; my favourite place in the gardens. The enchanting smell of roses is in the air; its source scattered in numerous places in the glade.

How many times have I come here in my lifetime? The happiest memories were when my friends and I sat here and talked the afternoon away. I also spent most of my free time here when word arrived that our beloved Prince had joined a perilous quest. I had cried and cried with no hope of stopping myself, until my friends finally discovered where I had been going to be alone. No one knows my secret passion for the Prince, however. None shall know until he himself discovers this.

Long have I wished he would come to this glade when I occupied it. And now he will come, on this night! How will it unfold? Will I find the courage to tell him of my feelings? Will he kiss me? Will he hold me close to him and caress me in a way I have allowed no other to caress me?

Before I can answer any of these questions I am aware of movement to my right. I turn slightly, and there he is, standing at the entrance to the glade. My breath catches in my throat as I look upon him. His green robes are bluish silver in the moonlight, emphasizing his muscular physique to best advantage. His hair shines, spilling over his shoulders in long rivers of mithril. I pull my eyes back up to his face and I meet his gaze. Without breaking eye contact he slowly approaches me in fluid strides, his blue eyes gazing into my green.

After what feels like an eternity he is standing before me. He asks if he may sit beside me, and who am I to deny his request? He lowers himself gracefully next to me and I find that I am all the more aware of him. Gazing at me intently, he tells me I must call him by his given name, not his title. I say his name solely for the reason of hearing it upon my own lips. Legolas.

He raises his hand and gently lifts a lock of my hair off my shoulder. He presses it to his lips and then rubs it against his cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. He lets my hair slide from his fingers and his palm moves to rest lightly against my cheek. I press my hand over his and turn my cheek into his hand, closing my eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand.

After a few moments his hand clasps mine and brings it down between us, resting his other hand on it as well. His thumb strokes across my knuckles in a steady rhythm, and he bids me to look at him. I do, and he tells me how beautiful he finds me and how he often thought of me while on his quest.

Emotion overtakes me; a combination of the sadness that had assailed me during his absence and the joy I feel at his confession. I throw myself into his arms, sobbing, telling him how distraught I was with worry for him. His arms wrap comfortingly around me, promising protection, as I tell him how I never thought myself worthy of one such as he, but never could I place my affection in such quantities in another. His hands stroke my hair and my back as I finish my own confession. My cheek is pressed against his solid chest and I can feel the trained muscle beneath his clothes and hear his heartbeat. I can scarcely believe I am doing this with him, but it feels so right. He smells of the forest he loves so much, and also of something that is uniquely his own. I draw in a much needed breath, and find myself calming down rapidly.

All too soon he pulls back, his hands upon my shoulders, before rising; his hands sliding down my arms to gently grip my hands. I rise to my feet and he leads me through a curtain of leaves into a small alcove at the base of a large willow. He turns to me; that keen, adoring gaze trained on my face. He says he has wanted to do this for a long while, and he slips his arms around my waist, pulling me up against his lithe body. His eyes look deeply into mine, and on impulse I slide my hands from his chest over to his back, wondering vaguely why I am so pleased with the hard contours my hands trace.

His head lowers to mine slowly, but his lips only hover over mine. I look inquiringly at him and see a question in his eyes. He asks me if this is what I truly want, his voice a whisper. My heart swells with love for him; that he would put my welfare before his is more than I would ever have expected. I assure him that this is all I have wanted for a long while. I long for him. I want him to kiss me. I need him to kiss me. At my words he looks at me for a few moments, and then his lips finally touch mine.

His lips are warm and soft as they move slowly and gently over mine. His method is skillful, and I pull myself even closer to him. The kiss is light as a summer breeze, but soon his tongue darts out to trace my lips. Threading my fingers into his hair I open my mouth to him and his tongue eagerly strokes the recesses of my mouth. My tongue dances with his own in answer, and he kisses me more hungrily.

At length we are forced to break the kiss for need of air, and I notice that at some point his hands had slid down to my hips and they were now gripping them possessively. One look at his face tells me he has no intention of letting go, and I feel no inclination to tell him to release me. He is so beautiful. His skin is pale and flawless and unveiled desire and affection swims in his eyes. I bring my hands up to cup his sculpted cheeks and I stroke them with my thumbs, before bringing his mouth back down to mine.

It is long before we part, and when we do, Legolas reaches for my hands and speaks my name softly. He looks deeply into my eyes for a long moment, and then voices a statement I thought I would never hear from him. He loves me!! I can barely contain my joy; only long enough to tell him of my love and see my joy reflected in his face, and then I am in his arms, holding him to me as closely and tightly as I can. Legolas bids me to look up at him and I do, where I finally see unbridled love in his eyes.

He tells me to come with him, and offers me his hand. I take it, and he leads me to a part of the garden only those who have the express permission of the King or Prince are allowed to enter. It is the Queen's garden. I look up at him, and he tells me that he has never brought another maiden here.

He leads me beneath a large willow and sits down on the ground, drawing me down with him. He pulls me against his chest and wraps his arms around me, laying us both down upon the soft grass. I am lulled to sleep by his breath caressing my cheek as he sings softly to me.

**A/N: There is at least one more chapter coming, though I may give in to the temptation to write another scene with Amiriel's POV and Legolas' POV. Let me know what you think!!**

**Mel**


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